Lonely Souls
by Inkling39
Summary: "How can I live in a world knowing Marius is dead and I am not?" ... She has no reason to live. He only has the promise he made to keep her alive. ExE
1. Chapter One: Alive

Here I am taking my turn at this... ENJONINE... Oh, this ship, I hardly knew when I got on it. It all started with "Hey, yeah... that's an idea! My two favorite characters. They would have been great together... in an AU or something." which led to a very unhealthy obcession. Make no mistake. The original story is flawless in my eyes, but oh, the possibilites.

* * *

...

He awoke to stare at a strange abyss.

It was moving.

It was white.

_Dead? At last?_

He felt his temperature increase, his breathing hitch... like a choking sensation. Suddenly, the memories of his comrades returned to him.

Yes.

He led them to their deaths. Surely it was his turn now.

He was ready.

However, the longer he stared into the pure white nothingness above him, the more he realized that it was not as endless as it seemed.

He blinked.

It stopped spinning.

He blinked again.

It became solid.

With the newfound ability of his eyes, he narrowed them sharply. It was a ceiling. He was laying down. He… He was…

_No! _

He was _alive. _

_No! No! Dear God in Heaven NO! _

"Boy, can you here me?" a voice asked.

_Go away. Whatever you are doing, stop and let me die. They're dead. All of them. Every single one. I don't want to be alive. _

But, the voice just became all the more clearer with every word, as did his sight. He moved his head to see just who he would forever resent for saving him.

"That's it," a blur loomed over him, holding a candle. "You've recovered miraculously."

The light from the flame was to bright. Enjolras winced. It hurt.

The light was drawn away.

"Where are you hurting?" he was asked.

Enjolras didn't reply, his mind ached with dizziness as he debated on whether or not to try and move again.

"Can you hear me?" he asked.

He made an irritable nod.

"Do you remember anything?"

_Yes. Everything._

"No." he didn't recognize his own voice, it was a dark and low rasp, it was barely audible. But the word summed up his entire state of being.

"You were brought here by a gentlemen, he said you were caught in the crossfire at the battle of the barricade. He did not know your name or anything. That was sometime ago, nearly four days."

He felt his familiar frown tug at his lips.

_Caught in the crossfire?_

_I caused the crossfire! _

What fool brought him here with that lie?

"You're quite lucky to be alive."

"No." he repeated. "I'm not."

…

He was not in a hospital, but a monastery. He was kept in the chapel, hiding from the world in the House of God.

_Like a coward. _he thought to himself.

His eyes were shut tight, as he tried to will himself unconscious. If he was going to be alive, he was not going to let himself be awake to acknowledge the limbo he was in. Living, and unable to move, with every wish to die. It was truly a fate worse than death.

_Perhaps I deserve it. _his mind spoke bitterly.

He could faintly hear the gentle chanting of the monks in the monastery. Their voices dulling the torments of his mind and chasing away the demons around him. At least for the moment.

"_Lord on high, hear my prayer… hear my need. You have always been there…" _the song lingered in the air.

With the small peace he was given, he was permitted to sleep once more.

…

The next time he awoke, he jolted into a sitting position, sweat beading at his forehead. His body churned in pain from the abrupt movement. His shoulder, wrapped in cotton, was healing from a bullet wound, he also could feel the scab from his minor head wound and his entire body ached from bruises.

He eased himself back to laying. His eyes wide as the nightmare continued around him. In the darkness he could see the faces of his fallen comrades.

He turned to alter where the moonlight shined in the window, showing the tabernacle and a detailed crucifix. The suffering Christ's eyes were pleading toward Heaven, longing for his suffering to end.

_Why am I alive? _he asked silently.

_Why have you left me here?_

A memory stirred…

_He cursed as he saw little Gavroche climb through the barricade to gather ammunition from fallen soldiers. _

"_Come back! No!" the young men called to their little friend. _

_The boy taunted the soliders, believing they wouldn't shoot him since he was a child._

_A shot fired and it missed. _

_He could hear the lads around him trying to coax him back, trying to get through the barricade to him. _

_He tightened his jaw when the next shot fired and hit the boy in the leg. He moved with Grantaire and Courfeyrac toward the boy. _

_However, by the time Enjolras recovered the boy, he was shot once more, the blow fatal this time. Nonetheless, he would not leave him behind. _

_As Enjolras carried the boy away from the firing, he saw he was still alive, faintly. _

"_Eponine." Gavroche spoke. _

_Enjolras looked down at him. "Shhh… quiet now."_

"_My sister, where is she?" he asked._

_Enjolras felt his lip twitch with emotion as he recalled the girl who he had watched weep for the now dead Marius. "She left after Marius fell, she is safe, remember?"_

_The little boy took a shallow breath. "She'll have no one now, not Marius, not… me."_

"_Gavroche…"_

"_Look after her, Monsieur."_

_Enjolras paused and shook his head. "I will not live after today, Gavroche."_

"_Please Monsieur…" he whispered._

_Enjolras stone heart melted lightly. "Be at peace, I will do all in my power to make sure she is safe."_

_The boy gave a small smile, before his eyes dulled. _

"_Oh no!" Coufeyrac wailed as Enjolras placed the boy in his arms. The men wept for their fallen friend. _

_That irritating little boy, who was the love and affection of their group. _

_Enjolras stumbled as he moved away, feeling his heart waver. The cause was lost… This fight was almost over._

_They didn't stand chance. _

_Death was all that awaited them now. _

_Marius was the first to die… they all would follow soon. _

_Marius… thoughts of what happened hours ago filled his mind. _

_The valiant boy had taken the powder keg when the fight had turned ugly. He threatened the soliders that he would blow the barricade, with them all in it, if they didn't stand down. _

_Enjolras saw from the distance and made his way to climb the barricade to reach him._

"_Marius! Don't!" he called. _

_Enjolras noticed a boy from the far corner turn his head at the commotion. Only it wasn't a boy, it was a girl. Marius' little shadow, Eponine. Her face fell in horror at the sight before he, and she began to scramble up the barricade after Marius herself. _

_When Enjolras turned back to Marius, his heart froze. A solider aimed a gun and fired, blowing the lovesick boy down the barricade. _

"_NO!" Eponine screamed as she went after him, echoing the leader's thoughts. _

_Enjolras had no time to react. He took the keg that rolled past him and lifted it up to fulfill Marius' job. "Get down, or I will blow you all to hell." he seethed angrily, taking a torch from Joly, who was behind him. _

_The captain Enjolras knew, he had grown up on the same street as he. When their eyes met, the uniformed man nodded and slowly backed down with the other national guard, once again leaving the revolutionaries to wait their inevitable fate. _

_The seconds passed like hours as he turned and made his way down to solid ground. His heart was racing, blood pounding behind his ears. He felt on fire after being so close to death. However, the coldness of despair crept within him when he beheld the sight enfolding on the stone cold street. _

_Joly rushed to where Eponine cradled Marius, openng the injured boys shirt to see the bullet wound. The petite girl didn't take her eyes off Marius, as she wept openly, her sobs breaking the dead silence around her. The hat she had worn, to disguise herself, had fallen off and her long hair tumbled down about her face, hiding it from the young men around her. _

"_Marius please!" she wept. "You cannot die!"_

_Enjolras stayed grounded as he watched everything take place. His childhood friend… his closest friend… had just given his life saving them all. _

_Marius… _

_He lived but faintly, his eyes on Eponine. Joly checked his wound, but in less than a few seconds, he looked up at Enjolras and shook his head. There was nothing to save the young man. _

_Marius tried to speak, but no words came out. He choked on his own blood instead._

"_No Marius! Think of Cossette! She loves you… you cannot leave her." Eponine told him, her sad, little voice was heart rendering. _

"_Eponine…" he managed to choke. "Tell her… "_

_He began to shack. His eyes held fear… he was not ready to die yet. He had too much to live for. _

"_Marius! No! She loves you... _I love you_!"_

_Once he stilled, Eponine stared in disbelief. "Marius?"_

_Enjolras knew it was over, he clutched his trembling hands and turned to nod at whomever was at his left to gather the fallen man. _

_The men tentavily approached Eponine and lifted the fallen Marius out of her arms, she struggled for a moment till Gavroche came to her side, and she reluctantly let him go. Large tears rolled down her face, leaving clean streakes through her dirty cheeks. _

"_Eponine." Gavroche comforted, hugging his sister who was knelt at his height. _

_She wrapped an arm around the boy, and her gaze met Enjolras. The sorrow in her eyes cut right through him and he turned away from her, back to his men. _

"_He had a letter." Gavroche told her, holding out a white envelope. "Marius wanted me to take it to Cossette."_

_The volunteer, the old man, who had joined them just a few hours ago, approached them. "She is my daughter." _

"_You must take it to her, Monsieur." Gavroche told him._

"_I must see to his body, boy will you bring it to her? She loved this boy, she must receive it." he replied. "I don't know if I can face her now."_

"_I won't leave my gents." Gravoche spoke up. _

_Eponine took the letter from her younger brother, trying to fight her tears, and standing at full height. "I…I will take to her."_

_Enjolras could only look at her with pity and admiration. She was to deliver the last declaration of the man she loved to another, having just watching him die in her arms. _

She still is running your errands, Pontmercy. _he thought to himself. _

_The girl looked down at her brother. _

"_Please, get away from here, find somewhere safe."_

"_I won't leave my friends, 'Ponine!" he told her stubbornly. _

"_I don't want to lose you too." she told him, her voice barely audible. _

"_I'll be here when you get back, don't worry."_

"_I'll look after him for you, I promise." Courfeyrac told her. _

_Seeing that there was no way to convince the boy away from danger, she nodded a thanks to the young man. _

"_Be safe." she told Gavroche, giving him a brief hug before sneaking away from the barricade. _

_Enjolras watched her disappear into the night, running like a little doe, fresh tears still falling from her face. _

He opened his eyes widely, taking in the chapel ceiling once more.

"Eponine." he spoke her name out loud, though without any coherent thought.

He wondered if she had survived, if she had made it to Cossette, if she had completed her mission. He wondered if she had known that Gavroche had fallen.

"_Look after my sister, Monsieur."_

Enjolras closed his eyes again.

_Is that why? _he thought bitterly.

…

"When can I leave?" Enjolras asked a monk, who applied salve to his wound. He had identified himself as Brother Tomas.

"I'd say you'd be strong enough by tomorrow, though you must try not to reopen your wounds… they could get infected." the monk told him.

Enjolras frowned bitterly, as he was reminded of Joly, and the way the medical student was ever-worried about infection, well all ailments.

"We offered our litany to Our Lady of Sorrows for you this evening, in hope for your speedy recovery."

"Appropriate." Enjolras replied curtly. "Thank you."

Brother Tomas nodded. "There is much anger in you. I cannot imagine the things you have seen."

"You cannot imagine the things I have done." the revolutionary replied coldly. "God has chosen a just punishment, I suppose, the last thing I want to be is alive."

Brother Tomas sighed, pitying the young man. "The Lord works in mysterious ways, my brother, we must always place our trust in His hands."

Enjolras hardened toward the advice, he had yet to trust anyone who were not his friends…

And they were all dead.

…

The next morning, he was feeling his strength return, he stood and tried out his legs, which had luckily been spared any real damage.

Brother Tomas had given him the trousers, linen shirt and cravat he had come in, fresh and clean. He asked off handedly about his red jacket, deciding it unwise to mention the liberty pin upon it.

"There was no jacket such as that, Monsieur." the brother told him. "But, this one."

The brother held out a long black coat, and a hat.

Enjolras nodded. He was confused, but wasn't about to let it show on his stoic face.

Whoever was responsible for saving him, thought this through well. The National Guard would be looking for him, and recognize him for his red coat and golden curls. He had always stood out as the leader of his rebellious group.

He threw the jacket around him and put the cap on his head. "Thank you."

Brother Tomas nodded. "May God go with you sir."

Enjolras tried not to scoff bitterly at the comment, but instead nodded to him.

Enjolras ignored the ache of his left shoulder and stepped out into the sunlight. He winced, he had been behind stone walls for days, it was too bright.

He brought a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes. He had been told he was several miles from Paris, and had quite a walk ahead of him. He knew that it would be a smarter thing to head north and leave the country.

However, he was not about to abandon his beloved home, if they found him and killed him, so be it. He trudged alone the cobbled road, jamming his hands in the pocket of the coat and feeling a thin crumple of paper within. He pulled it out carefully and unfolded it.

It was a white envelope, inside it held a large sum of money and a note:

_Be careful, Monsieur. _

_J.V._

…

With every step, the bitter and more angry the broken young man became. With every ache of his shoulder, every stumble on the rocky path, the more and more aware that he was alive. Within the desolate countryside, he never felt more alone.

_There is a grief that can't be spoken… this pain goes on and on…_

All those lives, lost for nothing.

_And I led them there…_

He gritted his teeth and clenched a hand to his chest as he continued forward. He let not a single tear fall.

Never more had he felt more like stone.

…

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Ah! Yes, alternative ending... Marius died while Enjolras and Eponine lived. Eponine next chapter. REVIEW! PLEASE!


	2. Chapter Two: Ghost

I wasn't going to post so early, but I had some extra time to edit these chapters... I really need to work on my other stories as well, but this is the one that has me a-typing at the moment. So, here we are...

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Eponine woke to the dark room of Marius' flat. She had slept there all night curled up on the floor, like a kitten.

She didn't know when she had last eaten, but the pains of hunger did nothing to her. She stared blankly ahead, all her tears had run out, leaving her face dry and expressionless.

After a few moments of silent suffering, she would consciously check her breathing… to see if she still was doing so.

_In _

_Out_

_In _

_Out_

Throughout her sad life; all the loss, the hurt, abuse, betrayal, abandonment, hate, ridicule…

She had never let herself enter into the place she was now… she had fallen deeply into despair, and did not know if she could escape.

His flat still smelled like him. Marius. She could sense him in that very room, his spirit never leaving her. It trapped her where she was, and she did not know whether she wanted to be set free or not. His constant presence both soothed and tormented her.

The world had returned to normal since the short-lived revolution… the blood of the streets washed away and the story of the valiant student boys had become yesterday's gossip…yet…for Eponine, it replayed over and over in her mind as if had happened moments ago.

She swallowed.

It hurt.

Her throat was parched. She would need water soon, yet she felt too weak to stand.

_In _

_Out_

_In _

_Out_

What now? Was she to just to lay here until she died?

_Seems that way… _she thought.

…

Enjolras' gaze scanned the streets of Paris bitterly. The city he loved so much, the people he fought for, his birthplace… it all held no meaning to him now.

The only passion he had was the anger within him. He was no longer inspired by the concept of a liberated France, as he once had been.

This city, this country, was no longer a shining star of opportunity in his eyes. No, it was now a barren waste land of no promise with only the bitter memories and endless regret.

It was a ghost town.

The national guard was clearing the streets, it had been a week since the Battle of the Barricade, and the threat of revolution was over. The thirty some men were dead… and the people who supported them went back to their miserable lives.

_Damn cowards… _

Les Amis had given up their bright futures and young lives in order to fight for the unfortunate citizens of France. They fought to give them rights and dignity…. yet here they were, back to everyday life without a care in the world.

By the end of the month, Les Amis, for all their valor and dignity, would be forgotten completely.

His feet moved on their own accord, he had no real goal or destination, so he had settled for aimlessly wondering. For he himself was nothing more than a ghost as well, as he figured. No purpose, no goals, just a lonely, wandering being unable to journey to the next life.

He glanced up at the grey sky and could feel the air grow heavy. It would rain soon.

_Fitting._ his mind thought coldly.

A little fall of rain was all that was missing from the dreary scene.

His feet led him to a very familiar path, down the cobbled road which led to what remained of the fallen barricade. His heart began to ache as he viewed the same café he had spent months in with his friends, planning to overthrow the government and begin a new age of freedom and equality. One would never know what battle raged there, except for the pile of broken furniture on the side of the café.

He was cold. Frozen.

He stared ahead blankly, not a soul was around him, as he viewed the place where his dream both ignited and died, the place his men pledged their oaths, to only fall one by one.

It was a battleground, and he could feel the phantoms around him. He could see lights in the window and hear the laughter, the shouts and cheers. When truly, everything was dark.

He could still see the barricade raised to it's full height, hear the shouts and the gunfire, taste the blood in his mouth.

He felt a drop of rain fall against his face. Seconds after, a light rain fell freely from the heavens, damping his hat and drenching his jacket.

Standing in silent vigil, Enjolras let the rain soak into him, hardly feeling anything at all, neither the wetness nor cold. The rain proved to be a bit soothing, in fact. He had long lost the ability to cry, so it seemed right that the heaven's did so for him.

A moment later, despite not hearing or seeing anything, his eyes widened and he inclined his head on pure instinct sensing he was no longer alone.

A figure entered the square from one of the back allies, walking with a small limp, head downcast. Tall and thin with a long brown jacket and a familiar cap.

His eyes didn't move from the figure as it froze for a moment, to look up at the dreary building. It lingered for a time period he was not aware of, before setting off once more.

Mid-step, the figure froze, seemingly sensing their solitude disturbed as well, and turned.

Enjolras stiffened as dark eyes met his. Feeling that same, strange sensation he felt the first time he had seen those eyes.

_Eponine._

He found her.

She was alive.

Had he been looking for her?

He felt too much in that moment to be able to identify what he thought of seeing her. Every emotion he could think of filled his mind at once, leaving him dazed and confused.

Her eyes simply widened at the sight of him, and they merely stared at each other for a long while.

She had paled slightly, shock evident on her face… she too looked at him as if he were a ghost. After a moment, the fear melted away and a number of other things flashed through her dark hazel eyes.

Though conflicted and unsure… he took a step towards her, hoping it wouldn't send her running.

"Eponine." he spoke, his voice cutting through the silence and the rain.

Her name on his mouth seemed to distress her more as she shifted backwards slightly.

He felt his frown deepen, but eyes soften slightly at her reaction, and didn't advance further. It dawned on him that she may not recognize him, or perhaps did not know him by name… he had never been properly introduced to the girl, and only recalled her from the sideway glances.

"It's me, Enj…"

"I know who you are, Monsieur." she spoke, cutting him off, her voice slightly broken against the rain fall.

"Do you?" he asked.

She met his eyes again, this time he could feel her trying to read him, and he felt drawn to look away.

"Yes… though, forgive me, I thought you dead." she spoke, her tone unreadable.

"I should be." he responded.

She did not disagree as they fell into the silence of the pattering rain. He took a careful step toward her again, this time she did not waver, but eyed him warily.

The closer he got, the more he realized the damaged state of the girl. He could see how thin she was under her jacket, the way her cheeks had sunken in from malnourishment , and the dark rings under her eyes. She was but a waif of a human being.

What was worse was in her eyes. There was no shine to them as he remembered, they were dull and lifeless, lost to the despair she had no doubt fallen into.

"You will be soon, if you linger here." she muttered.

He did not reply as he slowly advanced to stand before her, watching her with his endless blue-grey gaze. She shied from him slightly, but did not back up.

"I hardly care." he told her, finally.

It was quiet again as he saw the resemblance of Gavroche in her face, and recalled that she had left before he had fallen, and wouldn't have known what happened to her younger brother.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle… but, you're brother…"

Her eyes flashed. "I know what became of my brother, sir."

Enjolras frowned, but nodded in understanding. "He spoke of you."

Anguish took over her face at his words for but a moment, before she found composure.

"Before he died… like the rest of them?" he could hear the bitterness in her tone.

His jaw tightened and his chest clenched. Her words were true and sharp.

"He asked to make sure you were safe." he said quietly, wishing he sounded all the more indifferent.

The surprise was evident in her eyes, and then the sorrow that followed after that. She looked down, surely touched by the final request of her younger brother.

However, it faded as she turned back to him. Her chin was slightly elevated in defiance. "Well, as you can see Monsieur Enjolras, I am just that."

He softened his gaze at the words she spoke, knowing that anyone could see they were far from the truth.

"I…"

He took another step towards her, this time with an arm hesitantly reaching to touch her shoulder. She bolted away, sprinting off toward where she came from.

"Good day then, Monsieur." he heard her breath.

He lowered his arm as he stared after her. He was once again feeling too much to understand what state she left him in. He looked upward for some form of guidance, but the heavens were silent, and all he could feel was rain upon his face.

…

She thought she had run out of tears after days of doing nothing but shedding them… however, she was proven wrong as she rounded out of the ally and collapsed on the corner of an isolated street. Her tears mixed with the rain as she struggled to stop herself.

Seeing that stoic young man, whom she had seen preach to the people so many times… aside Marius, had awaken all of the sorrows that were killing her inside. That golden-haired leader represented the entire revolution, the battle that had stolen the ones she loved. She clutched the material around her heart as she wept bitterly. It felt like she couldn't breath.

How dare he ask of her well-being!? How dare he seek her out!?

How was it that he was still alive, and Marius and Gavroche were not!? He had more right to die than anyone on that barricade.

As the hours passed by, she remained hunched over in the rain, falling deeper and deeper into despair.

…

Enjolras had stayed planted where Eponine had left him, his gaze following her until she had vanished. He clenched his hand tightly. He tried to be horribly indifferent to it all, but his true thoughts broke through his marble façade.

_Don't go. _

However, she did.

After several minutes, he broke from his daze and found it in himself to make his way toward shelter.

What was a little fall of rain, truly?

…

The following evening, Eponine wandered through the streets alone. She had forced down some water and a crust of bread that morning, knowing that Marius' landlord had locked his flat, leaving her without a place to stay, and would be walking about aimlessly.

It had been the first meal she had in the last day and a half and she could feel the ache in her stomach as she walked. She was also aware she was coming down with a fever, and could feel herself sweating, despite the fact that she couldn't shake the chill that had enveloped her.

She paid it all little thought though… too many troubling things were on her mind. Everywhere she turned, she could see Marius' face. His voice whispering in her ear…

"'_Ponine."… _he spoke.

She looked around her, before chastising herself… her mind was playing tricks in the darkness again.

" '_Ponine… have seen you seen Cosset? I cannot see her."_

She felt herself grow cold as she tightened her arms around herself and walked faster, as if to rid herself from the voices.

"_I can no longer be with her, Eponine, tell her I love her… it aches so much to be without her."_

She plugged her ears and shook her head, feeling her heart tighten in pain, she could literally feel it brake. Every word he spoke was like a dagger forced into her, cutting her down. Did he know how much he pained her?

"_Cosset, my beloved, forgive me for leaving you!" _

"Stop!" she begged, closing her eyes tight, willing the torment be taken away. "Please stop!"

She cried loudly and ran as fast as her legs would carry her. She had no idea where she was going… just away from his voice.

She caught herself at the edge of a bridge, colliding with the rail almost painfully. The Seine was rushing rapidly and she found the sound and sight oddly soothing.

_It is so close isn't it? Just a jump. _A quiet voice rang in the back of her head.

She tried to recover from her crazed state, to calm her heavy breathing and uncontrolled tears, her insufferable sniffing and coughing. It was all too much…

It was unbearable.

_It doesn't have to be…_

Her mind began to spin and ache.

_Your life has always been such a heavy burden, Eponine… everything so hard…but look, it can all be over… its so easy… all so easy.._

She began to lean, bringing a foot unto the railing.

_Can you really live without Marius?_

She edged closer, and felt herself lose a little balance, before a shout shocked her out of her daze.

"Don't!"

Before she could turn; strong, warm arms were around her waist tightly, yanking her roughly away from the railing. In panic, she struggled.

"Let go of me!" she cried.

The arms didn't leave her until she was a good distance away from the edge, despite her squirming. When she was set down and allowed to turn, she looked up to see Enjolras. In his eyes she could see the deepest forms of anger and terror.

She felt what little sanity she had left crumble and she shoved him away from her. Angry tears ran down her face as she yelled at him. "Leave me alone, Monsieur! This does not concern you!"

"Eponine…"

She hated her name on his lips, though she could hear the edge in his voice, it had sounded too soft and tender. It made her brake down all the more.

"Let me be, Monsieur, I have no reason to be alive!" she cried, burying her face in her hands. "Let me end the torment!"

"No, Eponine, not like this." he said determinedly. "I won't let you."

She let out a cry. She was truly appalled for what she had almost done, but she truly felt no escape… and seeing him before her, saving her, chastising her, was more than she could bare… she could only feel her wrath turn on him.

"Why not?" she asked. "You let them die, why not me?!"

He faltered, but stood firmly between her and the flowing river.

"You took the people I loved, with your eloquent words and inspiring dreams, and led them to their deaths!" she cried again. "Now you deny me death?"

Within her, she could feel the guilt and remorse of her words, but she had long lost control of herself and could not stop.

She rushed to move past him but, despite her bitter words leaving him wounded, he caught her without fail around the waist once more, stopping her.

"No!" he said firmly. "I will not have more blood on my hands!"

She fought him, but it was useless, she was so weak that she could hardly fend off a hungry cat in an ally. Still, she gave it everything she had, punching her small, harmless fists into his hard chest. She felt dizzy and strange the more she moved and bucked to be free. She hardly knew where she was or what was happening, it worsened every passing moment, and everything was growing dark.

Still, she was aware of the arms around her, and she gave one more struggle. "Let… let me go!" she breathed quietly.

Eponine crumpled in his hold and he held her tighter, feeling her go dead weight, keeping her from sinking to the ground. She had passed out. He lowered himself, cradling her for a brief moment, checking her pulse and breathing anxiously.

She had a high fever and he could see the scratches and bruises on her exposed throat and collarbone, trailing under her clothes, and he assumed they were all over her. But, she was alive and still breathing against him.

Enjolras stared at the utterly broken girl in his arms and felt guilt and anguish wash over himself at how he participated in her suffering.

He stood, lifting her with him, cringing at how light and delicate she felt in his arms. He felt as though he could brake her if he squeezed too tight. He moved with determination to find shelter and medicine… her life was slipping away.

_Let me go! _her voice echoed in his head.

"No." he spoke finally.

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Please Review!


	3. Chapter Three: Mend

Enjoy :)

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The room was lit by a flickering candle that gave a small shelter of light in the darkness. Enjolras, as weary as he was, sat awake in the soft armchair, watching Eponine's faint breathing.

She lay unconscious in the bed next to him, her face pale and pained. She still had a fever and sweat was dotting her forehead.

He sighed, running his hands over his face, through his hair… he feared she would not last the night.

He had settled them both at an inn and called for a doctor, who had promised to return in the morning, after he administered her some medicine. He had told both the innkeeper and the doctor that he was her brother, in order to be able to stay in the same room as she.

The innkeeper's wife and daughter had kindly cleaned and dressed Eponine in a white night gown and left her an old dress that would nearly fit her. It remained folded up neatly on the table beside the bed. But, Eponine had hardly stirred since she collapsed into his arms and Enjolras feared that there would be no need for it.

He took the damp rag that rested beside a basin of cold water and dipped it in, before wringing it out and placing it gently on her forehead. She let out a shuddered breath, but her pained expression softened slightly. Enjolras dabbed the rag gently about her face, willing the fever to finally brake.

Though he had contemplated it too much the last few days, seeing her try to end her life like she had done, had shaken all those thoughts from him. A firm believer, he knew that what awaited giving into despair… an eternity of darkness and torment.

Eponine, because she was alone and sick with grief, had almost fallen into that… and in so many ways it was his fault.

_Please, not you too. _he thought silently, knowing that he probably could not handle witnessing another death. Especially someone he promised to ensure safety too… it would be his undoing.

The night continued on, long and agonizing, rain still pattering on the glass windows.

After several hours, Enjolras had dozed off and awoke in a great panic. The candle had blown out and left the room dark, save for the moonlight that bled through the windows.

He anxiously lit the candle and checked Eponine, praying she hadn't slipped away while he had slept. He moved a hand to the side of her face. She was warm… still too warm… but alive none-the-less.

He let out a shuttered sigh and took in her slow shallow breaths, before turning back to face her. To his surprise, she leaned into his hand, that was significantly cooler than her body temperature, and sighed in her sleep. He didn't retract right away, and just let her take what ever solace his touch offered. Thanking the Heaven's for sparring her.

…

Eponine breathed in deeply before opening her eyes and squinting at the morning light that was far too bright for her.

_Where am I? _was her first cohesive thought.

She felt so utterly… _comfortable. _

She was enveloped in a mild warmth and felt both clean and refreshed. She was still a bit dizzy, but the ache and nauseated feelings had left her head. She felt cool instead of too hot or too cold… and _better._

She had not felt so well, in months.

"I see you're commin' around then." a female voice spoke kindly.

She craned her head toward the voice as her vision expanded. She saw a plump, friendly looking woman cleaning about the room.

"We feared you wouldn't make it the night, you poor dear." the woman continued, coming to stand aside the bed and bend over her.

Eponine stared at her, moving to sit up, confusion etched on her face.

The woman just smiled. "Forgive my manners, you just awoke and probably remember har'ly a thing."

She took a seat in the chair and touched Eponine's hand. "Worry not, you're in safe hands, my husband runs a good inn… you're fever broke early in the morning, hours before the doctor arrived, it was quite miraculous…good thing too, I think you must have scared the wits out of your poor brother, he…"

"Brother?" Eponine croaked out, her voice nothing but a gentle rasp.

The woman smiled. "Yes, poor lad, refused to leave your side or eat nelly a thing… I finally was able to force him away after the doctor came, to eat a decent meal downstairs, he looks wane himself."

Eponine listened in silence, her eyebrows arched together.

"He carried you in last night in the rain, with a damaged shoulder and everything… said the two of you got caught in a riot down town… poor dears… both of you so bashed up like you are."

Eponine looked down at herself and realized she was not in the same clothes she was wearing last and her face flushed.

"Worry not, I changed you last night, didn't remove your under dress at all, and I brought you my eldest daughter's old day dress, she left a month ago to be a governess." the woman told her.

"Thank you." Eponine managed out, as she looked over at the soft blue dress on the counter beside her.

"T'is nothing, my child, though I did throw out your other dress, it was quite tattered and no good, though I've kept you're coat and hat to wash. Now, I will be right back, I will bring you some warm food and help you change as soon as I am done with this." she said, turning toward the door.

As she opened it, Enjolras appeared… and Eponine felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him. His eyes met hers briefly, and she saw the flash of emotion within them, before he turned to acknowledge the innkeeper's wife.

"There she is, all well… no need to worry young man." she said patting him on the shoulder. "I hope you finished your breakfast, that was awfully fast."

Enjolras just nodded to her and let her walk past him with her laundry basket. She closed the door behind her.

Enjolras turned back at Eponine and she noted the heavy emotions, but mostly relief within his gaze. She stared at him silently with wide, shacking eyes. He wore nothing but trousers and a loose fitted shirt that slightly exposed his chest. His golden hair was disheveled, and there were bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep.

The moment he came into her view, everything from the previous night came flooding into her mind. She realized he was this "brother" that had saved her, took her to this safe haven, and stayed by her side as she lay dying in the night. She became confused, anxious and utterly mortified.

He began to make his way towards her, and she found she could not keep his gaze any longer and turned to look at her hands that had gripped the sheets.

"Forgive me." she murmured, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. The things she said to him. The things she tried to do.

She didn't see the incredulous look on the young man's face as he sat in the chair next to her.

"…You weren't yourself." he spoke quietly, guiltily.

"I am not worth this trouble." she murmured, completely turning her head away. "It would have been best that I had not survived the night."

Enjolras felt surprise and anger surge in him as he gripped her shoulder and made her look at him.

"_Don't_ say that." he said lowly, ignoring her tears and not elaborating more, letting his stern look speak for him.

"But…" she began.

"No." he interjected.

Had she any idea how long he watched her slip in and out of death through the night, almost making him crazy with fear and grief? Did she not know that he promised her brave little brother that he would protect her as he died in his arms? Did she not realize how much she _mattered?_

He would not listen to her say such things about herself. He wouldn't.

"You… you have no idea…" he found himself at a loss for words as her eyes waited for him to continue…

Before he could, the innkeeper's wife had returned with a tray of bread, cheese and milk. Enjolras stood and excused himself, quite overwhelmed.

Though the woman was speaking to her, Eponine's eyes watched him as he disappeared out of the room.

…

"Such a lovely girl you are, shame you are so bruised up and thin." the innkeeper's wife, who had introduced herself as Therese, spoke kindly. She brushed through Eponine's thick brown hair with a soft brush that massaged her scalp, and relaxed her.

Therese had already helped her change into the blue dress that fit her almost like a glove and offered her black shoes to cover her bare feet.

She had never been so pampered in her life, and yet, all she could feel was the misery inside her and simply stared blankly as the woman braided her hair and wove it in a practical bun.

"That's better." she said. "Now come downstairs dear, and test out your strength."

Eponine was still ungodly weak, but had managed to sit, stand and walk a little throughout the room. She could feel her strength return with every hour, and wondered why her body felt so resilient to obtain her former vigor.

…

Enjolras sat, slowly eating the soup that had been place in front of him, lost in thought as the inn keeper rambled on about one thing and another over at the bar, cleaning out whiskey glasses.

In his mind, he considered his next plan of action, he and Eponine would stay one more night, but after that, he was unsure… he would run out of money eventually, and or be caught by the national guard.

"Goodness me Husband, are you trying to bore the poor boy to death?" he heard the wife say, as she came down the stairs. "Do something useful and put out a plate for the young miss, she is coming down."

Enjolras head shot up at that information and took in the sight of Eponine coming down the stairwell, in the blue dress that had been given her. Despite the fact that she looked completely out of her element, she looked quite stunning, and he found that he was scolding himself at even thinking such things.

But, it was true… the blue dress brought out her olive skin and dark eyes, and fitted her perfectly. Her hair had been brought to its full potential, woven upon her head, a few stray curls escaping. She hardly looked like the street urchin from the previous night, but a young middleclass woman.

He had to physically stop himself from gaping, though he failed to keep his eyes from her as she limped down the stairway, holding tightly to the rail. Around her was a light shawl that hid the bruises on her arms and shoulders.

"Does she not look much better?" Theresa said to the men. "Nothing like fresh clean clothes and a hot meal to cure a fever."

Eponine had been too preoccupied to notice the attention she was given, and she flushed the minute she met Enjolras gaze. She then kept her head downward as she continued to the bottom step.

"Please sit mam'sel, we're happy to see you up and about, gave us quite a scare you did." the inn keeper spoke kindly.

Shaking himself out of his daze, Enjolras stood and pulled out her seat for her, but she did not meet his eyes as she took a seat.

"Merci." he heard her mumble.

He sat beside her and the inn keeper placed a bowl of soup in front of her. She thanked him softly.

"How are you feeling then, my dear?" the inn keeper asked.

"Better." she replied, offering him a small smile. "Thank you."

"Must have been quite a scare to be caught up in that riot." he went on.

Eponine faltered a moment, before she exchanged a quick glance with Enjolras, and nodded easily.

"Yes, it was terrifying…"

"Now, Maurice, let them be to their lunch… the poor girl has had enough excitement." Theresa scolded her husband, pulling him along to help her with the dishes.

The couple left the two youths alone to their food and the table grew quiet. Eponine began to eat slowly, trying not to sicken herself by the richness of the food she was not used to.

Enjolras continued eating as well, and they stole a few glances at each other, but remained silent.

By the fireplace, Eponine noticed a young girl, about eight years old, playing with a rag doll. Her long brown curls reminded Eponine of herself at that age, and how she would play by the fire when she was young with Azelma and Gavroche.

Enjolras followed her gaze and stretched his injured shoulder a bit too far, he cringed slightly, but made no noise.

Eponine was reminded that Theresa had spoken of an injury, and could see a blush of red on his shoulder, though his white shirt.

"You're hurt." she spoke quietly.

He met her gaze and twitched his mouth carelessly, before acknowledging the scratches and bruises about her. "So are you."

"Well, being caught up in a "riot", a few black marks are bond to happen." she retorted, sarcastically. "Bullet wounds are another thing."

"Its nothing." he replied, turning his attention back to his food.

She ignored him and kept her gaze on him as he avoided hers. "Even with that shoulder, you carried me here?"

"A man with two broken limbs could manage to carry you, Mademoiselle." he responded, still not looking at her.

She closed her mouth, unsure how to take that comment.

It grew quiet for a moment as they continued to eat their lunch in silence… before Eponine worked up the nerve to say what was on her heart.

"I never thanked you properly." she murmured.

"There is no need for it." he replied, looking up, their eyes locked once more.

The time seemed to linger before Enjolras finally looked away, but Eponine's eyes stayed on him in contemplation.

…

It was growing late.

Enjolras entered the room to find Eponine sitting at the small vanity, staring at herself in the mirror. She scrutinized herself, but made no movement. She seemed very lost in thought.

She saw his reflection and turned to acknowledge him, before looking back at the mirror.

"I don't recognize myself." she told him quietly.

He went over to the cabinet and removed his cravat, his back turned to her, as not to startle her. The room was full of tension of all the unsaid things between them, the memories of the barricade, and now the unfamiliar territory of sharing a room.

"Clothes don't change a person." he offered.

Eponine silently disagreed and shook her head at the thoughts in her mind, before reaching for the white night gown that Theresa had cleaned for her.

"I suppose not." she replied.

She dared not turn to face him as she walked behind the dressing screen, for fear he would see the blush on her face.

He turned to see why she became so quiet, but realizing her motive, quickly whipped his head away, blood rushing to his face as well.

He moved to sit on the second bed in the room, trying to compose himself. However, it didn't help when Eponine emerged from the changing wall in her thin, white nightgown and the braid, that had been woven atop her head, hung loosely over her shoulder.

Enjolras put all his focus into removing his shoes… laces and buckles… all the while reminding himself over and over that he could not spare the money for two rooms.

He heard her move quietly about the room, to the other bed, and crawl into it. Hoping she was under covers and out of sight, he allowed himself to turn and draw up his legs under the covers.

She was bundled up to her neck, no doubt feeling uncomfortable herself, staring up at the ceiling. He leaned over to blow out the candle, but froze when she spoke.

"What happens tomorrow?" she questioned.

"What do you mean?" he answered carefully.

"What will you do?" she asked, turning over to face him.

Enjolras considered her words, for he didn't have a clear answer yet. "I have not planned too far into the future…."

"Will you leave Paris?" she asked, anxiety edging her voice.

"As soon as I'm able." he replied. He now realized it was the only logical way to stay alive.

Though, still horribly beside herself with his presence… the idea of him leaving bothered her immensely… perhaps it was the unbelievable kindness he had shown her, or the fear of being alone another day, whatever the reason, she did not like the idea.

He met her gaze. "But, I have not the means nor the strength now. Tomorrow, I will need to gather what I can from my flat near the university."

She nodded in understanding, feeling a little relief.

"And you?" he asked hesitantly.

She moved her gaze downward. He probably feared she would try to take her own life again; which she swore, after he had spoken to her that morning; that she would never do again. Though she was still in a state of undeniable grief, she never wanted to go down that dark, hopeless road again.

"I…"

"You'll help me?" he asked.

"…You want me to go with you?" she asked, her head snapping back up.

"You have a reputation for knowing the streets better than anyone… I can't be seen by the national guard." he explained.

He truly did not want her out of her sight, not after seeing her so close to death the night before. Since his life was spared, he would stop at nothing to keep his oath to protect her, but he could tell she would not except any charity or chivalry… she was far too prideful for that.

He would never admit his own anxieties of being alone… stranded as the sole survivor of the barricade… afraid of all the ghosts that followed him… no, never would he admit that.

However, he hoped she would except, he did not wish to fight over the matter.

Eponine felt a lightness at his offer, though she did not contemplate the feeling… for it was strange and unwelcome. But, she was glad to assist him in anyway, to repay her debt to him.

"I'd be happy to help." she said, the faintest hint of a smile crossing her face.

Enjolras nodded in agreement and contentment. "Very well, then. Goodnight, Eponine."

He leaned over and blew out the candle as he originally intended.

"Goodnight, Monsieur." she returned, turning over.

* * *

Thank you for reading... I have the next chapters ready, just have to edit. Please review!


	4. Chapter Four: Wander

Eponine woke again to the feel of warm sheets and comfort that she was not used to. It was still early, but the white morning light gave the small room a bit of a glow.

Finding herself not sleepy in the slightest, she sat up and took in her surroundings. How she wished she could wake up like this always, with a roof over her head and the feeling of safety.

She looked over to the other bed across the room, where Enjolras lay asleep. He laid on his side, facing her, his golden curls disheveled, half of them falling over his face and his right arm hanging over the side of the bed.

In the silence of the morning, Eponine found herself studying the young man who had saved her. His face was illuminated by the morning light, giving her a respectable look at him.

In his sleep, his face was no longer formed in a consistent scowl, and though she could see the dark circles and stress lines of his face, he looked far more at peace. She watched as he breathed lightly, his slightly exposed chest rising and falling.

He stirred in his sleep, making her panic slightly, but he settled moments afterward, in a position that gave her an even better view of him.

The more she studied him, the more Eponine could not deny that he was quite beautiful, and she found herself flushing at the conclusion. He was the vision of an angel, both intimidating and glorious. From his thick golden curls to his azure eyes, strong jaw, full lips… he was undeniably breathtaking.

It was strange she had never noticed or contemplated such things of him before… when she had seen him in the past, making speeches in the streets or studying at the café. But of course, months ago she only had eyes for Marius, with his lean figure, green eyes and light brown hair. He hadn't won her heart with his unique handsome features though, but with the kindness and innocence he had shown her.

Eponine had fallen for him so deeply, she hardly even looked twice at the other men around her, nor did she truly notice the young revolutionary…

He was quite a complex being to ponder over.

He stirred again, this time awaking, and she found herself flushing as she darted her prying eyes away from him. She scolded herself for starring so long and bite her lip in embarrassment.

When she let herself look back after a moment, his grey-blue eyes were on her, and she knew her flush had returned.

He looked to be studying her as he sat up, and she dared not speak… maybe he was aware that she had been watching him so long.

"Are you feeling warm again?" he asked with concern as he swung his legs over the side of his bed one at a time. "You look feverish."

Of course the question made her all the more red and she shook her head.

"No… no… Monsieur, I'm fine." she stammered. "Its stuffy in here."

He nodded in agreement, though he still looked concerned. His gaze followed her as she gathered her things and scampered to the dressing screen.

His concern turned to confusion, but after a few moments he shrugged it off and got up himself to pay the innkeeper.

…

After breakfast, Enjolras waited for Eponine outside the inn, donned again in his long jacket and hat. The day was brighter and significantly warmer, which he was glad about.

A bit of sun would probably do Eponine a world of good.

He felt a smile twitch at his mouth as he remembered fondly how Joly would ramble on about lectures on the warmth of the sun, and how it was a natural and remarkable way to cure ailments.

He never thought he would miss the boy's paranoid prattling so much. With the brief bit of joy the memory served him, he was left with the grief that followed… with the inevitable concept that he would never see any of his friends again.

There would be no more prattling…

The door opened, braking Enjolras out of his depressing thoughts, and he looked up to see Theresa and Eponine emerge from the inn.

Eponine wore the same blue dress as before, but this time, her hair was left down in loose curls and a bonnet was tied around her head. Enjolras approved of it, not only because it was flattering, but it would keep her face hidden from the crowds.

Theresa helped her down the stairs, reminding Enjolras of Eponine's limp, and gave the younger woman a brief hug before wishing the both of them good luck.

Before he knew it, they were both alone in the streets, Eponine looking up at him hesitantly. He offered her his arm, which took her aback.

"I can walk, Monsieur." she said, a little defiance in her tone.

He almost smirked at her stubbornness… despite everything, she refused to appear weak. However, he could tell arguing with her pride on the matter would not bode well.

"I'm being polite not charitable, Mademoiselle." he replied, hoping she wouldn't see through his gentlemanly façade.

Though not fully convinced, Eponine did tuck her arm around his with a struggled sigh. Enjolras allowed himself to smirk a little this time, though made a point to do so without her looking.

As they made their way to the university, Eponine tried to distract herself from the strength she felt at the curve of his arm, and the way he steadied her step and supported her weight slightly as she walked.

"Thank you, Monsieur, I am aware of the expenses of inns." she told him, though kept her face hidden by her bonnet.

"No need to thank me, Mademoiselle." he replied, his gaze on the streets, warily. "The money was not mine."

This made Eponine look up at him, and when he looked down to meet her confused expression, he shrugged. "Whoever saved me seemed to want me to have a little means to get around as well."

"You never told me how you came to survive." she spoke softly, aware he may not wish to speak of the topic.

"I have little to share." he told her. "I awoke in a monastery, several miles away… I remember nothing."

"Why did you return to Paris?" she asked. "Surely, it would have been safer to flee."

This time Enjolras avoided her gaze, and pulled her closer as they squeezed past a group of people. A paperboy had helpfully interrupted the conversation, offering a page of the daily news.

Enjolras declined and continued on, Eponine's question left behind.

"Is there another route to the university?" he asked, "The main rode is much too crowded."

Eponine nodded and he found a faint glimpse of the old shine in her eyes return. "Of course, this way."

She swung him around down the next ally, taking him by surprise at first, but he recovered and followed her along.

…

They arrived at the flat before even an hour had passed.

Eponine stood outside the door, watching Enjolras gather some papers about his room, filling his pockets with some spare money and valuables.

Memories flooded her mind as she watched him move about his perfectly neat flat… she thought of how she used to chat with Marius right by his door, like she was standing now. He would laugh at her jokes and get all hectic… telling her how late he was for class. She remembered the fluster of his face, and the glint in his hazel-green eyes.

Her heart began to sink with every passing moment and she blinked back a few tears.

"Are you alright?" Enjolras asked.

She darted her head toward him in surprise… he had stopped moving about his flat and was standing upright, his eyes on her.

She nodded her head in reply.

He tilted his head at her, not fully believing her, but did not pry.

"Do you want to come in?" he asked. "You don't need to hide behind the door."

For what seemed like the tenth time that day, she flushed. "I mustn't, Monsieur."

He seemed like he wanted to scoff, but reclined. "You shared a room with me overnight Mam'sel, whatever damage could be done to this ethic code you're following has already been done."

Eponine took in the sense of his words, but still hesitated as she took a few steps into his cramped, but neat flat. Of all the times she stood beside Marius' door, teasing and laughing, he had never invited her in… not out of rudeness, of course, but because it simply was not done. That, and she doubted he hardly even gave it a thought, if any at all.

She shook her head, willing away any more sad memories and instead took note of Enjolras' flat which, like his personality, was a complete contrast to Marius'. Enjolras' room was encased with ink, quills and paper, but mostly books… scores of them aligned on shelves and many more in piles, for lack of better space. Most of them were books of law, war strategy, the French Revolution, the American Revolution… but the more she scanned the titles, she could see some literature, historic novels and much lighter reads.

Marius' flat had been much more messy, all his clothes and papers on the ground, but he had so much more space, he only had one shelf of books that he would use for classes. His flat would always have the window open, and the light coming in… it was much brighter.

Enjolras had one widow, but the sill served as a shelf for a few Encyclopedias, and the dark drapes were closed.

Enjolras watched Eponine silently as she surveyed his flat, she had taken his attention away from his current task of finding his traveling papers. After a few moments of looking about, she walked near one of the stacks of books and pulled the top one off, handling it gently.

"Can you read, Eponine?" he asked with interest.

She jumped a little at his question and turned back to look at him. She nodded and turned her gaze back to the book.

"I had been taught a little when I was young, and it always stayed with me… I am not well versed, but I am literate, I was able to get more practice, thanks to Marius…"

He frowned as she trailed off and watched as her shoulders fell. The room grew quiet and tense.

"Not an easily achieved ability." he offered some praise, aware of her pain.

_For someone like me? _she asked silently.

Eponine just nodded lightly in reply, her back still turned to him. She heard him as he made his way to stand beside her.

He peered at the book she had grabbed, one from his Shakespeare collection of plays; _A Winter's Tale. _

_Eponine noticed that he stood close to her, a bit too close. Her eyes watered slightly, but she did not cry. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, that she had to will herself not to lean against. _

"_I'm alright." she told him, setting the book back down and moving away. _

"_Eponine…" he spoke her name with that same tender tone._

"_Are all of these yours?" she asked, motioning toward the books, changing the topic._

_He sighed, before looking about the room fondly. "Yes, it will be hard to part with them."_

"_Perhaps, you can send for them, when you have settled." she suggested. _

_He shook his head, as he moved to again look for his traveling papers. "No…I'm not supposed to be alive."_

…

_Soon they were back on the streets again, their next destination was to get something to eat. Eponine led the way, but Enjolras had to slow down for her. She was still quite weak from her fever and her limp did not help fasten their pace. That didn't matter to the young revolutionary, but she was starting to look a bit pale and weary. After a few blocks, she began to worry him. _

"_Perhaps we should rest a moment." he murmured to her, when she nearly stumbled. _

_She shook her head. "I'm fine."_

_They went on a little ways, Eponine determined and Enjolras cautious, but after a few steps, Eponine faltered and almost collapsed. Enjolras caught her gently around the waist, pulling her up to stand straight beside him. _

"_I'm calling a carriage." he said firmly, leading her out of the stream of crowds and toward a bench. _

"_No… really." Eponine tried to argue, but Enjolras wouldn't have it._

_He set her gently on the bench and kneeled down at her level to examine her, his brows furrowed. He placed the back of his large hand over the top of her forehead. _

"_Thank God you're fever hasn't returned." he said quietly, absentmindedly bringing his hand to touch the side of her face. _

_She ignored the shiver down her spine and tried to look cross. "I don't want to be a burden."_

"_You're only burdening me with your stubbornness." he replied._

_Though the comment was meant to be stern, it was the farthest thing from it, as his voice and gaze softened. _

_His hand lingered against her face just a bit too long, before he snapped out of it and pulled away to stand at his full height._

"_Now, stay here while I get a carriage." he said, moving toward the road. _

_Eponine nodded ruefully, trying to catch her breath. _

_She had never been one for being weak or ill, and it was difficult to let someone help her like she was some fragile, bourgeois girl. _

_However, she had never been so close to dying nor encountered someone like Enjolras, and found that she had little choice in the matter. _

_He returned several moments later, and helped her to her feet. _

"_Just over here, come on." he told her. _

_A coach waited at the corner, and he lifted her gently by the waist into the cart. Eponine took a seat, still a bit dizzy, but happy to rest her feet for a moment. _

_Enjolras climbed in after her and took a seat across from her, and knocked for the driver to go. _

_Eponine rolled her eyes at his doting. "You are wasting your money sir, I only needed to rest a moment."_

"_Even if that were true, its still not my money, miss." Enjolras retorted, keeping his eyes out the window. _

_She scowled slightly, scrunching up her nose. He caught the face she made in the corner of his eye and tried not to smirk ._

"_Your stubbornness amazes me, you practically fainted…" _

"_I tripped." she argued, her chin held a little higher. _

"_Of course you did, probably because of your bruised ankle." Enjolras replied, his voice both sarcastic and low. "Or another injury I am unaware of."_

_Eponine faltered as he pointedly took note of the blue, purple and green imperfections along her arms. She quickly covered them with her shawl, and pivoted her gaze at the window. _

"_Who was it?" there was an edge to his voice, and she couldn't help but shake a bit at the sheer intensity that raged beneath his controlled and stoic exterior._

_In all her life, she wouldn't have the pride or the trust to give any information of her unfortunate experiences, and yet she found the answer leave her mouth without consent. _

"…_My father." her voice was small._

_Enjolras gaze narrowed dangerously and his jaw tightened with rage. The thought of any man raising a hand to a woman sickened him, let alone a father leaving his daughter bruised and broken. _

_He gritted his teeth forcefully, trying to contain his anger and disgust._

_Eponine lowered her gaze shamefully, as if it were her fault, and that made him all the more angry. _

"_After the battle, he found out I had survived and came looking for me with his men… I swore I would never return home after that night… then he found me, and when I refused to return…" she trailed off and looked out the window._

_Enjolras closed his eyes tightly, feeling the rage in his clenching fists. He took in a deep breath before he replied shakily. _

"_Is he… are they… still looking for you?" he asked. _

_She nodded slowly. _

_It was then that he was fully aware, that he would not be leaving Paris alone. _

…


	5. Chapter Five: Struggle

This has been favorite chapter to write thus far... Enjoy!

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Enjolras glanced back at Eponine.

She stood near the shops to blend in with the middleclass patrons. Her dark eyes met his, and she gave him a simple nod to encourage him onward.

He didn't like the idea of leaving her outside, he had no idea what she would do or who would approach her. He just learned of the danger she was in, making him more protective of the girl. However, she was adamant about not accompanying him into the bank, and walked off before he could ask further.

By nature, he wanted to argue, but he knew he was pushing his luck with the gamine by forcing her into things as it was. If he cornered her too much, she would bolt. She was a skittish creäture for sure, not frightful in the slightest, but untrusting and quick to disappear. She was very much the essence of a shadow, as he recalled before the war at the barricade. She was there one minute, gone the next.

_Except where Pontmercy was concerned… _

Enjolras ignored the thought, and the strange unpleasantness it brought to him, before sighing in defeat and nodding back to Eponine.

However, his gaze sent a message. _I won't be long. Stay put._

Eponine gave a less than genuine wave of the hand, before flicking her gaze to the scarves that were hanging in front of her.

_Get on with it, Monsieur. _

Not that she wasn't grateful to him, but there was no bourgeois boy that she took orders from.

Well, there was one once, but Enjolras was not him.

He disappeared inside. He was to close his accounts and withdrawal all the money entitled to him, then perhaps he had some form of means to leave Paris.

Eponine roamed a few minutes, keeping a low profile. She truly didn't mind going in with him, but she knew it wasn't the best idea. Her father had a nasty run-in with that bank a few months ago, and she had been apart of it. She knew it was unlikely, but all it took was someone to recognize the street rate, pretending to be a lady, and she would get them both in prison.

He already would be at risk, if someone recognized him. That made her worry slightly, as she glanced back at the doors of the bank. Hopefully it was too soon after the short-lived revolution for anyone to start giving the distinctive leader any curious glances.

She decided to keep her mind off of such thoughts and returned to looking aimlessly at the shops. Merchants tried to interest her with a number of useless knick knacks but, she politely turned them all down.

The young woman was too preoccupied, anxiously waiting Enjolras to emerge from the stone building, when she stiffened.

"Almost didn't recognize you, 'Ponine." a familiar voice spoke from behind.

Before she could wheel herself a round, a firm arm gripper her already bruised arm and pulled her a little ways back in an ally.

…

Enjolras sighed in relief as he stepped out of the bank, he didn't think things would have gone so smoothly. Not a raise of the eyebrow, not a pause from the teller. They simply handed him the whole of his inheritance in thin, white, paper bills that he was able to fold up easily in his pocket.

However, his sense of ease drifted away in a moment, when he couldn't spy Eponine. His head whipped around the small square, but the dark-haired street urchin was nowhere to be found.

_She didn't…_

He bolted down the steps in a hurry and began to shift his way through the crowds, trying to keep himself under control. Eponine was a gamine… she spent more time on the streets than she did indoors… still, he had seen what she almost had done two nights ago, and found himself panting within moments.

After what was far too long, but truly but a few minutes, voices stopped him mid-stride as he passed an ally, bringing him back to peer over from the wall.

Eponine stood cornered by a tall, young gamin, who stood at least two heads taller than she. Her expression was wary, but unafraid.

"You're father's been looking for you." the man said to her.

The girl narrowed her eyes slightly. "He ought to know by now it's a lost cause, he will carry my dead corpse through the threshold before I ever go back home."

"Still won't stop him," he told her.

It was then that her gaze flickered to Enjolras, and she stopped herself from making any sudden reactions that would endanger him.

"I don't see how this pertains to you… I doubt he'll give you money for me." she returned her attention on the intimidating man before her.

"No, that's not what I had in mind." the man spoke looking up, thoughtfully.

Enjolras began to advance, an overwhelming need to get her away from him taking over.

Eponine shook her head at him in warning, as the other man's gaze was not on hers. Enjolras halted ruefully, but made no other movements, if the man turned around he would see him.

"There are always other alternatives to house raids to make money, for a pretty face…" he leaned close to her, taking a curl of her hair between his fingers.

Enjolras could feel his fists tighten on their own accord.

Eponine didn't budge, her eyes still narrowed, her lips twitched with disgust. "You trying to cash-in at the docks, Monteparnesse?"

"Oh, don't be getting all high and mighty." he murmured. "I don't know when you started thinking you were above all this… but you'll at least make money and I could offer you protection from your father."

"By selling me off to the highest bidder…" her voice was low.

"What do you have to lose, Ponine?"

Her face grew serious. "The only thing I have left… I didn't spend the last five years protecting myself so that you could make a cheap frank over it."

"God, get you in half decent frock, and you're acting like a church going little bourgeois…" his voice was a dangerous tease, as he clutched her chin forcefully. "Acting like your virtue is something of value."

Enjolras made another attempt to go forward, feeling fire in the pit of his stomach with every word. Eponine's eyes desperately pleaded him not to.

"Whether it does or not, I will not go with you!" her voice raised defiantly.

"Maybe I won't give you a choice…" Monteparnesse said, his hand slamming into the brick wall, inches from her head, she didn't flinch, his temper taking over. "I'm being awfully generous, dear Ponine… Seems you didn't learn your lesson when we found you that night."

"Again, you will have to drag me there dead." her voice still defiant, smacking his grip away from her.

"Ungrateful wench…" he lifted his fist, but Enjolras didn't restrain himself further.

He was between Eponine and the large man in an instant, stopping Monteparnesse's blow by grabbing his wrist and pulling him away from the girl, before throwing his fist as hard as he could into the man's jaw. The sound and suddenness of it all made Eponine jump.

Monteparnesse stumbled over in surprise, grabbing his chin in pain. He looked up, bloodlust now in his eyes for the golden-haired boy who dared defy him.

"Well now Ponine, what have we here?" he said, he spit blood from the cut inside his mouth. "He doesn't look like your bourgeois boy."

Enjolras felt Eponine grab his arm, shacking it forcefully.

"No Monsieur, he'll kill you." he heard her breathe out hurriedly.

He ignored her as his new opponent straightened, and moved Eponine directly behind him.

"Don't know who you are pretty boy, but you made grave mistake." the assassin muttered dangerously.

Eponine saw Monteparnesse reach for his belt and saw a glint of silver.

"NO! DON'T!" she cried.

Enjolras eyes widened at the knife and moved out-of-the-way, half on his own, half pulled by Eponine. Monteparnesse, was quick to swing and lunge again. With a cry, Enjolras lunged, grabbing the man by both his wrists with all his might shoving, him into the wall. Straining his injuries in the process.

He slammed the armed hand of his attacker, over and over with fury he only ever felt at the barricades, until he finally dropped it. Monteparnesse, in rage, freed his left hand and swung a fist that landed on Enjolras' shoulder wound.

The young revolutionary let out a strangled cry, before the larger man tackled him to the stone cobbled street, knocking off his hat, his golden curls falling about wildly.

They fought bitterly, rolling about on the streets, the anger and bloodlust accelerating every second. Enjolras was seeing red. In the background he could hear Eponine pleading with them to stop.

He was on his back for a moment, and he mentally cursed when he saw the scrawny girl wrap her hands forcefully around Monteparnesse's fist, that had been aimed at him.

"STOP!" she cried, trying to pull it back.

"Stay out of this Ponine!" the man hissed, shoving her away forcefully, she hit the ground with a worrisome crack, making Enjolras throw another fist at the man.

He reeled back, letting Enjolras roll over and grab the knife that lay forgotten on the ground. By the time Monteparnesse made his next attack, he was on his back, a knife at his throat.

"Bravo bourgeois boy!" the repulsive man laughed wickedly. "they could have used you on those pathetic barricades."

Enjolras seethed, half a mind to kill the man.

"Go on, do it." Monteparnesse coaxed.

Enjolras clenched his teeth, before easing up, knowing if he took another life, he would fall back to a dark abyss, where he would not be in control of himself.

"Come near her again, and I will." his voice was firm, dark and threatening.

Monteparnesse only glared at him as he let him up, frustrated in defeat, and like a coward, ready to flee. He got to his feet and moved into the shadows. Seeing he made no more threats of attack, Enjolras moved to Eponine who lay sprawled on the floor, and peered over her anxiously. He was panting heavily and his body was in a full sweat.

"Are you alright?" his voice sounded very much like a boy to her, as he reached under her head, lifting it gently.

Eponine had to tilt her head up to see him clearly, still dizzy from her fall. Enjolras could see that on the side of her head, just below her hairline, a miner cut had split, blood oozing from it. She nodded to him in reply as reached his other arm around her waist and helped her to her feet. His shoulder throbbed in an unbearable pain, but he didn't acknowledge it.

Now that she was safe beside him, he had no other motive than to get her away from the dark ally and the evil within it.

Eponine allowed him to tuck her beneath his arm and she in turn supported his bruised frame, by letting her arm support him around his waist.

Monteparnesse still lingered in the background. "Run all you like, Ponine… Can't escape who you are, isn't that what they say? You're no better than the rest of us, you're no different from me."

Enjolras felt Eponine tense beneath him, making him hold her all the more firmly and turn out of the ally all the more quickly.

…

Enjolras laid on his back, his eyes shut tightly in pain, his shoulder throbbed as well as every cut and bruise he had accumulated. The bed was too firm, but it offered more comfort and support han he felt in the last month. Again, in the last 48 hours, he found himself at an inn, lying that Eponine was his sister, both of them injured… though, their story this time was they were mugged instead of caught in a riot. Not too far from the truth.

He heard the door from the wash room open and Eponine tiptoe into the room. He opened her eyes to see that she was in a night-dress, the cut on her head cleaned and bandaged. She was fiddling with her hair, looking like she was trying to attempt to braid it.

Her eyes settled on him and narrowed significantly.

"Satisfied?" she asked ruefully.

Beside him there was a basin and washcloth and bandages the chambermaid had stripped, but he wouldn't allow Eponine to help him till she had her wound taken care of first, which initiated a lot of bickering. He won the argument in the end, though he did have to promise he wouldn't resist any of her help afterward.

He nodded in reply, withholding a smirk, after looking over the bandage.

"Good." she said, trying to keep her composure as she pulled up a chair beside his bed, finishing the task on her hair before tying it and swinging it over her shoulder.

She took the rag from the side table and rinsed it before looking up at him expectantly. Frowning, he sat up with great strain, moaning at his damaged shoulder that was now bruised and reopened.

"You'll have to remove your shirt." Eponine murmured, trying to keep herself from flushing.

Enjolras figured that, but was just as uncomfortable as she as he pulled the thin white shirt over his head with his good arm. Eponine briefly thought she should assist him, but didn't have the nerve to. Her breathing hitched at the sight of him bare-chested, his muscular form, like everything else, was painfully beautiful. He looked like a Greek statue, chiseled to appear glorious and god-like.

She hoped the room was dim enough to hide her face, for it had become red as a tomato. It didn't matter, he wasn't meeting her gaze and she could see that he was blushing a bit as well. She bit her lip as rinsed the rag, suddenly feeling rather warm.

"Sorry in advance." she told him as she lay the rag over his wound cautiously.

He winced and sucked in his breath, but didn't move. Flickering her gaze up to him briefly, she began to slowly clean the deep wound that blemished the young man's angelic beauty. Her father had often come home with wounds from his dangerous work, giving her a good deal of practice cleaning and wrapping wounds.

It was quiet as Eponine worked, the minutes ticking by until the gamine found her voice.

"You… he could have killed you." she spoke quietly, her voice heavy with both concern and worry.

"I hardly care, he was going to harm you." he replied, his voice firm.

She looked up and saw that his eyes were on her, overwhelming her with their depth. She wished to argue the matter more, but lost her words as she drowned in the storm of his eyes.

"Who was he?" he asked. _. _

"He works with my father," she spoke quietly, getting back to her task, no lies coming to mind. "We were friends once, he took me under his wing when I was young… but he changed."

"For the worst it seems." Enjolras murmured, flinching again as she dabbed his wound.

She paused before meeting his gaze. "I'm sorry that you got caught up in it."

"I'm not." he replied.

Eponine tilted her head at the queer man, the more she was around him, the more puzzling he was to her. He hardly knew her and yet he was willing to take a knife for her… she didn't understand.

She gently wrapped the linen around his shoulder, helping him hold his arm up to go up and around. The feel of his warm bare skin, sending a shockwave up her arm. She habitually bit her lip, trying to focus. She finished by tying the bandage, tucking the knot securely

"There." she stood up.

"Thank you." he said, his tone gentle, as his eyes met hers again.

She gave him the smallest of smiles before gathering up the basin, clothe and extra bandages, and leaving the room. He watched her leave, before his gaze turned back to the ceiling.

Before a clear thought could enter his head, he was asleep.

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Thank you for reading! Please review. If you could, I would love some recommendations for any Enjonine stories that are good on FanFiction... I am to fuel my obcession.


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